


Thank you

by Illionite



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Mostly Fluff, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, maybe a bit of angst, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:51:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6076581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illionite/pseuds/Illionite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa has fallen down, but who is there to prop him up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank you

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write about Iwa and Oikawa and his knee, so this is how this was born. I kind of messed with the timeline for the sake of the plot, but it's not cringeworthy, I hope.
> 
> Please enjoy my first Haikyuu fic! If you liked it, please drop a comment, you'll make my day.
> 
> (Also, I suck at titles and summaries)

Cold presses against his knee and Oikawa hisses. 

Crouching in front of him, Iwaizumi fleetingly glances up to him before gently easing the pressure on the ice-pack.

They are alone in the big gymnasium that normally hosts the Kitagawa Daiichi’s boys volleyball club’s practices. It is long past nine pm, the curfew both of them have for school nights, but it doesn’t matter, because for Iwaizumi, from the moment he heard the first pained huff of breath, time took a secondary meaning. 

He sneaks a glance up again.

Oikawa’s lips are pinched into a tight line, white from lack of blood and pain, but the overall set of his face still tries to convey a positive image, a curtain veiling reality from those that set their eyes on him.

As though he had not just fallen in the worst way possible. 

As though even moving his knee a quarter of an inch would not make him scream until tears sprung from his eyes.

Iwaizumi remembers his voice over the phone. Strained, defeated, resigned. Words no one would usually associate with Oikawa Tooru, ace volleyball player, model student, but that Iwaizumi has had more than one encounter with.

He briefly closes his eyes with a sigh.

It pains him, that Oikawa has to hit rock bottom to even consider talking to him about what is bothering him.

He adjusts the ice-pack against Oikawa’s knee, trying to ignore the swelling, red skin that glares back at him. He isn’t stupid. He knows this is not something that ice can fix. He knows that he needs to get Oikawa to a doctor.

He also knows that it is going to be near impossible.

"Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s voice whispers. It sounds strained and very tired and Iwaizumi’s heart constricts at the mere sound of it.

Iwaizumi realizes he has been staring at him this whole time. He focuses on Oikawa’s maroon eyes, letting him know he has his attention. He has to tread carefully now. When he was backed into a corner, Oikawa became a storm, lashing out violently, impossible to contain. It is the thing Iwaizumi wants to avoid at all costs, as the only way to deal with it is with matching intensity. And it is one thing to berate Oikawa when he is goofing around, but a much different one doing it when he is tearing down his walls to talk to him. But for Oikawa, going from one end to the other is as simple as breathing.

Iwaizumi watches, mesmerized, as Oikawa parts his lips, the sudden relief of the pressure turning them pink. He watches as his throat constricts, and sound comes out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

Of all the words he was expecting to hear, those weren’t even on the list.

The implications hit Iwaizumi with the strength of a derailed train. He feels his temper rise inside of him and he has to make a conscious effort to keep it in check. He firmly commands his hand to keep a gentle grip on the ice-pack resting on Oikawa’s knee, despite the fact that his brain is practically begging him to press it against Oikawa’s skin the hardest he can.

“For what?” he grounds out after his grapple for control is successful, hoping that his intuition has, for once, failed him in regards to Oikawa.

Oikawa barks out a bitter laugh in response, confirming Iwaizumi’s suspicions.

Iwaizumi hates it.

“For everything, I guess?” Oikawa answers after  a short while. His voice is brimming with emotion and for Iwaizumi it’s easy to see him clawing against the walls, drowning in his own frustrations. It irks him, how Oikawa always seems to believe that he is not enough. That he will never be enough.

“I just drag you down,” he whispers, voice breaking.

And Iwaizumi can’t take it anymore.

“You damn idiot,” he mutters, voice flaring with anger. “You damn fucking idiot!”

His temper is getting out of control. His hands twitch, wanting to curl in on themselves, but he manages to spare conscious thought to his right hand, still holding the ice-pack to Oikawa’s knee.

Iwaizumi glares at his best friend and Oikawa visibly flinches. 

There are two possible outcomes to this situation. 

Oikawa will either compose himself, hide behind makeshift walls to avoid facing what he is afraid of, brushing it off as something unimportant. Or he will face it head on, unleashing the maelstrom of sour emotions that eat away at his heart.

The last time Iwaizumi saw the second option it ended with Oikawa bundled in blankets, crying his heart out while he clung onto Iwaizumi for dear life. Iwaizumi remembers the broken gasps, the hiccups of a thirteen year old Oikawa that had been thoroughly defeated after gaining the opportunity to play as the official setter for the first time. 

Iwaizumi would be lying if he said he liked the second option. But the first one frustrates him to no end, because it is the option that leads Oikawa to hide from him.

And so he eggs him on, hoping to take him to the very brink, all his carefulness tossed to the wind. 

He braces himself for the oncoming storm that is Oikawa Tooru.

“You drag me down…” Iwaizumi mutters, anger evident in his tone.

He feels Oikawa tense under his hands.

“How can you even think that, you idiot!?” he snaps as his eyes meet Oikawa’s with the strength of a volcano erupting.

The wind is starting to pick up.

“Well, it’s not as though there isn’t evidence to support my claim,” Oikawa replies, ice in his voice.

Oikawa always starts cool. Iwaizumi knows it is his defense for when things get out of hand. He hopes to intimidate the adversary to gain enough time to collect himself.

But that kind of strategy never really worked on Iwaizumi.

“Oh, but of course! The fact that _you_ are the one that turned Kitagawa Daiichi into the powerhouse that it is today, helping it get to the finals when no one in years had been able to, speaks of nothing but _utter_ incapability!” 

He’s flaring up, hoping to rile him into breaking. 

When hot air meets its counterpart, the equilibrium shatters.

“But we still couldn’t win against Shiratorizawa! After all the training we did, after all we suffered for this, it still amounted to _nothing!”_ Oikawa’s voice is rising with every word he pronounces, until it breaks off with a shriek at the last one.

Iwaizumi opens his mouth to reply, but Oikawa isn’t done yet.

“If only I had been quicker… if only my tosses had been more accurate…” Oikawa trails off, breath hitching in his throat.

Iwaizumi’s fury knows no bounds.

“I this, I that! You fucking idiot!!”

Under normal circumstances, Iwaizumi would have head butted him. But seeing as he did not want Oikawa to further injure himself, he resorted to screaming until his voice gave out.

“Do you think you are _alone_ on the court, you goddamned self-centered prick?! How do you think Hayato felt when he couldn’t get Ushijima’s spikes? Or Tamaki, when his spikes kept getting blocked? Do you think you are the only one with regrets?” Iwaizumi finishes his rant, the strain on his throat too raw to keep going.

But he just takes a breath and ignores the pain before adding one last sentence, screamed at the top of his lungs in hopes of getting it drilled into Oikawa’s thick skull.

“There are six players on a volleyball court! The team with the strongest six wins! There is _no one_ at fault for losing! We gave it our all, and we’ll keep doing just that until we’re on the winning side!”

Oikawa is quiet, eyes widened in surprise. 

Iwaizumi sags down, all of his energy gone.

He still manages to spare a glance to Oikawa.

“And you’ll be the one to take us there.” Iwaizumi whispers, voice rough and scratchy.

His eyes gain a universe of pain when he adds, “So it won’t do if you destroy yourself first.”

In the aftermath of a storm, there is always rain.

Iwaizumi sees the clear drops collide against Oikawa’s thighs, feels the light shake of a fifteen year old racked with pain, tired beyond comprehensible limits.

“Iwa-chan,” he bawls, slumping forwards, arms draping haphazardly around Iwaizumi’s shoulders. 

Iwaizumi feels like he is thirteen again, cradling Oikawa into his arms, patting his back, letting him cry all of his frustrations into his shoulder. 

He moves, mindful of Oikawa’s knee, to sit with him on the bench. Oikawa’s grip tightens, his sobs increasing in volume and urgency. Iwaizumi wraps his arms around Oikawa, squeezing tightly, and waits for the storm to die out.

 

——————————

It took a little convincing from Iwaizumi’s part, but he still managed to get Oikawa to call his parents, tell them what had happened and ask them to take him to the hospital. At first, they were really scared, fussing about his son, doing everything in their power to get there as soon as possible. But when they arrived and saw how calm their son was and how Iwaizumi had been taking care of him, they couldn’t help but calm down themselves. A quick call to Iwaizumi’s parents allowed him to go with Oikawa to the hospital, his mother understanding the importance of this moment without him having to say a single word. 

Oikawa fell asleep with his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder on the way to the hospital, breath coming in short tuffs against Iwaizumi’s throat.

At some point before falling asleep, he had laced his fingers through with Iwaizumi’s, their linked hands lying on Oikawa’s lap. 

In the end, despite the fact that a strained tendon was no laughable matter, the whole ordeal ended up in nothing more than a fright. 

Oikawa wouldn’t be able to walk long distances without crutches and a brace for the next two weeks and play for a whole month, but anything was better than the no-return option.

 

—————————

As they lay on Oikawa’s bed later on that night, Iwaizumi can’t help but look at Oikawa. 

The boy is drowsy with painkillers, about to go out like a light. For the first time in months he looks relaxed and content, and it is a sight for Iwaizumi’s sore eyes. Iwaizumi watches as his lids flutter, exhaustion setting in, relaxing his tense muscles. But he still manages to get out one last sentence, spoken with soft lips, before sleep claims him.

“Iwa-chan, thank you,” he mutters, voice muffled against Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “For being the pillar that I can lean on. For being the one that makes my victories possible.”

Iwaizumi’s breath hitches in his throat, heart skipping a beat. The fact that Oikawa would go as far as to thank him… Iwaizumi feels his body tingling, his heart overflowing with emotions, some of which, like affection or gratitude, he recognizes. And some of which, like the one that is constricting his vocal cords by the moment, he doesn’t. 

He is about to reply, still choking on the ball of something he can’t quite identify, when he notices that Oikawa is already beyond conscious thought.

With soft chuckle, Iwaizumi gathers the sleeping boy in his arms, gently holding him to his chest. He presses a kiss to his forehead, before murmuring.

“Thank you, Tooru.”

  _For making my life better with just your presence._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
